Drips and Drabbles
by somandalicious
Summary: As a participant of Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing LDWS at Livejournal, I have decided to archive each drabble at one place. DMHG.
1. Fortune on a Ladder

**Title:** Fortune on a Ladder

**Rating:** um, Pg-13.

**Round:** 2

**Prompt:** Must take place in a Library.

**Warnings:** None. Really.

**Word Count:** 499 exactly. Whut.

He sees the synergetic dance of a perfect leg as it stretches to tip toe and it halts his progress. His body teeters on concrete feet as his eyes glide auspiciously along the svelte curve of calf that slopes womanly into a thigh. A thigh that tries to hide beyond the demure line of a grey pencil skirt, which does nothing for the modesty of the wearer. If anything it accentuates the delectable roundness of a pert derriere. It was the kind of arse that a wizard dreams about palming in the throes of his crushing lasciviousness.

Draco's foot shuffles forward, gulping as his interest is piqued, and turns his body in an effort to get a better look at the undeniably feminine figure on the ladder. He sees a puzzle between the curves and tense lines of her body and he is eager to examine each measure of her physical guile.

Her blue oxford is taut around her extending frame, swathing her assets like a second skin, and as his study progresses the line of her form, he suddenly knows the owner of such a fit physique. It's the nest of frizzy curls, haphazardly knotted into a bun that gives it away.

Hermione Granger is keen on a book, her fingers ghost it desperately and the exertion makes her pant attractively.

The recognition cools his desirous curiosity. Not in disgust but in a control that is adapted after years of false animosity.

Covertly he advances on her. So distracted in her endeavor, she is heedless to his presence and it gives him an advantage.

He grasps the rail gingerly and takes one step on the bottom rung. A careful pull and he rises onto the ladder.

She falters in surprise, gripping the ladder in shock, and gasping softly.

He can feel the warmth of her skin, and smell her perfume, but mostly he sees the apprehension in her large brown eyes.

It floods down her spine, constricting her muscles and pulls her limbs inward defensively.

He smirks conceitedly, "Steady as you go, Granger."

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Her eyes are accusatory, suspicious.

He pulls himself up until he is directly behind her. His body sliding against hers provocatively. Insinuatingly. "Helping."

She bites her lip and he knows she doesn't believe him. Those bottomless brown eyes are critical, analytical.

"Which book?" He whispers.

She blinks, as if to recall the correct title and it's incredibly endearing. Unintentionally coquettish. "Cocks—Cosker's Guide to-to um—PropositioningaPureblood"

He leers at her inarticulateness. "Interesting."

"Indeed," she snaps. Discomfiture blossoms in her cheeks as indignation purses her mouth.

His grin deepens. "You can't learn everything in a book."

"I can." Her chin lifts in argument.

He presses himself closer to her, feeling all of her lovely curves against his hard angles. She shivers responsively, delightfully. "But do you know what to do when propositioned by a pureblood?"

A seductive smile dimples her cheek and fortunately for him, she checked that book out last week.


	2. A Lesson for a Liar

**Title:** A Lesson for a Liar.

**Rating:** PG

**Round:** 2

**Prompt:** Must include a Lie.

**Warnings:** None.

**Word Count:** 250 EXACTLY.

Although it wasn't High Tea, Hermione Granger had an intense craving for clotted cream, preferably on a raspberry almond scone. But when she waddled into the kitchen, she disappointedly found the container completely devoured. There wasn't a clot left for her eager palate.

Being infamous for her extensive knowledge, she was rarely wrong and ergo, seldom disputed. So when she made an inquiry, it was for two reasons. One, she genuinely didn't know the answer and was keen to learn it. Or two, she already knew the answer and was giving the interrogated individual a chance to be forthright. It was always smarter and easier for everyone involved if the answer was given immediately and honestly. After all, her temper was legendary also.

So when she toddled into the study, rubbing her swollen stomach and asked her adoring husband of two years if he ate her clotted cream, she expected nothing short of the truth.

Unfortunately Draco Malfoy still thought rather highly of his cunning and charms. He did eat the rest of her clotted cream. With raspberry almond scones. He was confident that she wouldn't notice and thus answered indignantly, "Of course not!"

Regrettably for Draco Malfoy, his pregnant wife didn't need any Veritaserum, for the droplet of clotted cream on his upper lip told her all she needed to know and her hex was precise and humiliating.

But he was an apt learner and with his magically elongated nose, he vowed never to touch clotted cream ever again.


	3. The List

**Title:** The List

**Rating:** G

**Round:** 2

**Prompt:** Must take place during Hermione's Birthday Party.

**Warnings:** Viva Las Vegas

**Word Count:** 497

Yesterday, she was only twenty-eight.

Draco watched his favorite witch whilst she mingled with the other guest. Her ivory party dress was pert, but demure and fit her like butter on toast. Her hair was chaotic around her, and as she flipped it over her shoulder, she stole a peek at him, eyes twinkling, a lovely private smile just for him. He thought she was pretty.

When she returned to her animated chat, he shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved a bit of folded pink parchment. It was faded from age and creased from being opened and refolded repeatedly over the years. Licking his lips, he carefully opened it to reveal a list, garrulously entitled "Things That I Must Achieve Before I'm Twenty-Nine But No Later Than Thirty."

He grinned bemusedly and continued reading. Although the list was long, it was majorly crossed off. A perfectly straight line of ink through each fulfilled goal and aspiration. So characteristically her. Organized, straight, perfect. Outrageously ambitious.

There were only three that weren't crossed off and despite them, he felt a sort of pride, an admiration. Because he knew this list was nearly sixteen years old, and in a way, it was a story of her. Of the person she had become. Of the person she wanted to be.

Today, she was just twenty-nine.

There was an abundance of gifts from him: lavish trinkets, luxurious clothes, and even a widely coveted handbag, they suddenly seemed worthless, thoughtless. And the exuberant party with all her friends seemed ordinary, generic. It all wasn't good enough. Not since he found the list.

He narrowed his eyes on item number 346: _Be spontaneous. _

It was an odd goal and even more strange that in all her years, she hadn't experienced spontaneity once. But then again, she'd always been a quick thinker. Strategies and ideas bloomed in her head faster than snow melted on the tongue. It wasn't so surprising that she hadn't considered herself truly impulsive.

Having only just arrived, he hadn't approached her yet, and as her glances grew more frequent, he knew he should probably greet her. Before he folded the vellum, he gave the last two items a thoughtful glance and a decision formed immediately.

For her birthday, he'd make all her wishes come true.

After putting the list away, he crossed the floor and placed a sweet kiss on her rosy cheek. "Happy Birthday, Hermione."

"Thank you," she murmured as she snuggled into his side and wrapped her arm around his waist.

His breath hitched with desire before he led her away from the others and after he took another kiss, he whispered, "Do you trust me?"

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Of course I trust you."

"Hold on. I have a surprise for you."

_#259: Become a wife. _

Tomorrow, she'd have a new last name.

And as for the item number one, well, they had an entire year to work on that.


	4. With You

**Title:** With You.

**Rating:** G

**Round:** 2

**Prompt:** Must contain ONE Cliché.

**Warnings:** A bit taken from that 70's show. Paraphrased.

**Word Count:** 499

"We're stuck in here."

"Yes."

"Together."

Hermione rolled her eyes pointlessly, as it was too dark for her companion to notice and tried to light her wand again. Inexplicably, it wouldn't glow. She grimaced. "We just have to find the door, no need to panic, Malfoy."

"I'm not panicking," he exclaimed, but the screech in his voice contradicted him. "And there isn't a door."

She sighed because he made a good point, when she followed Crookshanks into this alcove, she never did pass through any barrier whatsoever. Not even a magical one, as far as she could tell. "Well if there's a way in, there's a way out." She reached out her hand, blindly searching for some sort of purchase to give her an indication of her surroundings, but all she could feel was nothingness. However, she wasn't deterred; she continued to reach as her feet took tentative shuffles forward. Her diligence paid off when her fingers came into contact with a solid roughness. "A'ha!"

"What is that?" Draco's voice held an edge.

"I found a wall."

"Well done, but we weren't looking for a wall. We want a way out." Even in the darkness, she could feel his sneer.

"Yes, well if we follow the wall the way we came, eventually we will get out." She paused ephemerally awaiting his response, and when it didn't come she ordered him to follow her voice.

His unsure steps echoed until they neared her. Suddenly she stiffened. "Malfoy! You're touching my arse!"

"Accident, _Granger! _"

She held her breath anticipating his movement. "Hey! Your hand is still there!"

"It is _still_ an accident!"

She wrinkled her nose as she grabbed his hand and laced her fingers with his, instantly surprised he didn't object to the touching.

"What if there is a troll in here?" His whisper was harsh.

"There isn't."

"Or a manticore waiting to rip our heads off and feast on our dead bodies?"

"Gods, must you be so vulgar?" She didn't understand why boys always assumed the goriest scenarios when afraid.

"We are going to die."

She spun on him then and grabbed his face. "Draco Malfoy, be serious! We aren't going to die!"

"Yes, we are and nobody will ever know." He was nearly hysterical; she could hear his heart pounding against his chest and the anxiety straining his voice. So she did the only thing she could think of to soothe his stress, she kissed him. She put all she had into distracting him, but when his arms flew around her waist and he leaned into her, it threw her off balance and she stumbled backwards, taking him with her.

Then, surprisingly, they were in the middle of the hall, daylight pouring through the windows and most of Hogwarts staring at them as they slowly broke from the kiss.

She shoved him away and brushed off her robes. "Told you we'd get out." With her face burning red, she walked away with what was left of her dignity.


	5. Oh Matilda

**Title:** Oh Matilda

**Rating:** Pg-13

**Round:** 2

**Prompt:** Must be written from another character's perspective.

**Warnings**: Insinuation and technical terms

**Word Count**: 499

Three weeks, thirteen dates, and thirty-three snogs ago, I was the apple of Draco Malfoy's eye. Every day we'd spend hours talking about important social issues, like how pretty my leaves were and how much he hoped I'd flourish in the new flat. He worried immensely about my well being, always fussing about whether I was receiving enough sunshine or water. But my favorite part of the day was when he'd return home, shed his robes as he loosened his tie and ask me in the sweetest drawl, "Did you miss me whilst I was at work, Matilda?" I did, every day and I thrived under his tender care, my stalks reached heavenward and my red flowers bloomed bigger than usual. I wanted to be the most brilliant Fanged Geranium that he had ever owned. I liked being his pride and joy.

Then he decided to take up with that horrid witch with endlessly atrocious hair and he came home less. Even when he did, _she_ was always with him. Laughing, flirting, _touching_. It was completely disgusting the way she used her womanly guile to turn my dearest Draco into a simpering love-sick clown. She even had him cooking for her, like a common house elf.

It was all too much for me to bear. This _Hermione_ creature was stealing all of Draco's attention from me and that wasn't something I could tolerate. He was my human and I would not let him go without a fight. So I hissed as loudly as possible, using my large blooms in a chorus of indignation.

Her head turned, eyes large and I knew I had her attention. "What was that?"

Draco glanced at me briefly. "Matilda."

Then the atrocious girl grinned at me as she moved nearer. I growled my displeasure, retracting my petals and baring my fangs.

Still she wasn't deterred. The insipid woman had the gall to reach out and touch me! As if I was some common pet!

So I did what any plant in my situation would do. I bit her. Right on that bony finger.

She shrieked in surprise, yanking her hand away and Draco hurried to her side.

"I'd forgotten they bite," the idiot witch murmured as he checked her wound. I could see two tiny red dots, but no blood, clearly I hadn't bitten her hard enough.

Draco smiled at that awful Hermione, and then he _kissed_ the marks. I was appalled and gasped my displeasure.

As their eyes met, I realized my mistake, and when their mouths connected, it was clear that I had only helped my beloved Draco in his attempt at pollination.

Because in a matter of seconds, they were a chaos of human limbs as they fumbled ungracefully to his bedroom where he was sure to use his stamen to spread pollen all over her stigma.

I wilted instantly. It was apparent that my envious behavior only brought them closer, and I had handed Hermione the victory of Draco's affection.


	6. Leaves of Light and Dark

**Title:** Leaves of Light and Dark

**Rating:** G

**Round:** 2

**Prompt:** Must be set in the Fall. Excludes Halloween.

**Warnings:** none.

**Word Count:** 400

It had rained the night before and despite the eerie chill of the impending winter, the Maple trees burned with a brilliancy of reds, oranges and yellows. The black bark was a stark contrast of the wondrous fire bursting from its limbs that twisted heavenward in a desperation that Draco felt in the stoicism of his despair.

It was the bleakness of the grey tombstone that reminded him why he loathed autumn and its radiant pretentiousness. The season in which his mother had grown too weary of the world and decided to lay down for a reprieve, only to never awaken again. He had buried her on a blustery day only three years prior and he had never returned to her grave. Instead he had fallen into a stygian melancholia that destroyed his consciousness with the aid of liquor and debauchery. His grief had been frightening and just when he had thought his depression was endless, he had hit the bottom where he found the glowing compassion of a sympathetic hand.

The dainty hand that was now clutched desperately within his. Warm, supportive and soft. His mouth thinned as the lump settled in his throat, he could feel the sting of saline. It wasn't grief pulling at his chest, but gratitude that he wasn't alone anymore. He was grateful to this hand for staying his frustration, for soothing his pain, for leading him back into the brightness and showing him that life did go on. That even without his mother, he could still smile at life's pleasures, laugh at its absurdities until his sides ached, and love with every molecule of his being. That lovely alabaster hand had shown him how to live again. And he cherished every day since it had touched his heart.

"Do you think she would have liked me?" A sweet voice rose from beside him.

Draco turned to acknowledge it and there in the grimness of the cemetery, on that crisp autumn afternoon, Hermione Granger stood with faithful curiousness that brightened her brown eyes and a sincere hopefulness that pinked her cheeks. As the sunshine broke from the dreary clouds and the red, orange, and yellow Maple leaves kicked up around them, he thought that perhaps autumn wasn't so terrible after all.

As he pulled a rogue leaf from her curls, a smile softened the line of his mouth. "She would have adored you. Immensely."


	7. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Title:** No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Rating:** Flesch-Kincaid suggests you should be in 9th Grade to read this. PG.

**Round:** 2

**Prompt:** A rumor in 100 words.

**Warnings:** Dry humor.

**Word Count:** a dollar.

Although it was unusual for Hermione Granger to indulge in vapid blather, she found the latest water-cooler hearsay went against her logical sensibilities to 'never tickle a sleeping dragon'. So with biting brown eyes and a fist on her hip, she informed her fellow associates that in her experience, Draco Malfoy was the farthest thing from a _virgin_ and certainly not a _homosexual_, and it was completely ridiculous that any of them would assume such nonsense. Trust her. She would know.

Much to her chagrin, her over-protective vehemence only caused more office fodder. Only this time, it was undoubtedly true.


	8. Buttons

**Title:** Buttons

**Rating:** G

**Round:** 3

**Prompt:** Inspired by the movie "The Princess Bride." Must include the phrase: "As you wish"

**Warnings:** None.

**Word Count:** 100

Draco's feelings were undeniable as they rang true and vehement in Hermione's ears. His voice cracked with shame and conviction, a straight-shot icicle to her beating heart, stilling it immediately. To fight him would be futile and she knew when to walk away with dignity. Nodding, she met his eyes with her own. "As you wish, Draco." Stretching her arm in defeat, she handed over the raggedy teddy bear. "I won't throw him out."

His shoulders slumped with relief. "Buttons is very important."

"Of course he is, darling." Bemusement graced her kiss as she placed it upon her husband's cheek.


End file.
